


With Your Heart, Kindle My Heart

by WingsforWinter



Series: 30 Day Cheesy Tropes Challenge [7]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Hurt Castiel, Hurt/Comfort, Hypothermia, M/M, Roommates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-30
Updated: 2014-04-30
Packaged: 2018-01-21 08:31:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1544378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WingsforWinter/pseuds/WingsforWinter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel makes a rash decision that leaves him stranded in the middle of nowhere, about to freeze to death.</p>
            </blockquote>





	With Your Heart, Kindle My Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Day 7 of the [30 Day Cheesy Tropes Challenge](http://ghiraher.tumblr.com/post/37135733342/30-day-cheesy-tropes-challenge)
> 
> Stuck Someplace Together in Winter
> 
> a.k.a. my excuse to write a fluffy little hypothermia h/c ficlet.

 

 

Castiel cried out in wordless frustration and threw his phone at the passenger side window, only to scramble to pick it up again, hoping that his little temper tantrum didn’t break it. Even if there was no service here, he needed to keep it on him in case someone tried to locate him using the phone’s GPS.

 

_Does that even work if there's no service?_ Cas wondered. Best to keep it on him anyway.

 

He’d have to thank Gabriel for buying the expensive smart phone against his wishes if having it saved him from freezing to death in the middle of nowhere. Gabriel would never let him live it down, either.

 

He tried starting the car again, but like the last ten times he tried, he got nothing but radio silence. The engine didn’t even try to turn over anymore. _Dead battery_ , his brain supplied, _or worse_.

 

He wiped the fog from his window and tried to see up the steep embankment to the road beyond. It was nearly impossible to see anything. The weak moonlight barely filtered through the heavy snow that piled relentlessly on the car, slowly but steadily burying him. No one would be able to see him from the road, Castiel was sure of it. And even if they could, no one was dumb enough to go out driving in the middle of a blizzard anyway. No one but him, that is.

 

 

His argument with Gabriel still churned in his mind. _He abandoned us, Cassie. He doesn’t deserve to have us there._

 

Maybe not, but Castiel was hell bent on making it to his father’s funeral anyway. They hadn’t seen their father since he walked out on them over five years back, leaving the two teenagers to fend for themselves.

 

The first couple years were rough, but they were in a much better place now; the both of them were in college, with part-time jobs and friends and a crummy little three bedroom apartment that they shared with a roommate and they were _just fine_. Much better than they were when their dear old dad was around.

 

What Gabriel didn’t seem to understand was that Castiel wasn’t going for their father. He was going for himself. Gabriel had worked through his feelings ages ago but Cas couldn’t seem to be able to. He just needed _closure_. He wanted to tell their father how good he and Gabe both were. How happy he was with his life, even though at times he didn’t feel happy with it at all. How big a mistake his father had made when he walked out the door without a backward glance.

 

For the longest time Castiel had been so _angry_. He would drink himself into a stupor and rage at the injustice of it all, but he was past all that now. He wanted to pay his final respects and close that chapter of his life for good. To finally be able to move past the hurt and anger and confusion and just _be_.

 

 

But it wasn’t looking like that was going to happen, as now he was stuck in a ditch on an essentially abandoned stretch of highway with no way to call for help. Dammit.

 

He pulled on his gloves and his hat, kicking himself for not grabbing a coat a little more substantial than his beat-up old trench on his way out the door. He tried to get the door open, but the snow was too deep, so he settled on rolling down the window.

 

The frigid air slapped him in the face the second he gave it a way in. It bit at his cheeks and evaporated the warmth that had built up inside the car, and any thoughts that Cas had about staying put evaporated with it. He fumbled his way through the window and landed with an ‘oof’ in the thick snowdrift. He struggled to his feet quickly and dusted off as much of the snow as he could before his body heat could melt it into the fabric.

 

He struggled up the steep incline to the road and started walking back the way he came. He knew the next town wasn’t for miles and miles but if he could just make it to the gas station he saw a while ago, he’d be fine.

 

The snow wasn’t as thick on the road, and he was actually pretty confident as he trudged back toward civilization.

 

 

 

It felt like hours had gone by, though he had no way of knowing because his phone had died not too long after he started walking. So much for the GPS thing. His hands and feet had long since gone from cold, to painfully cold, to numb. It was on clumsy, uncoordinated legs that Castiel continued his trek. He’d long since stopped shivering and figured that must be a good thing. His body was probably getting used to the temperature.

 

He chafed his gloved hands together and stuck them under his armpits, but he couldn’t tell if it helped or not. He hoped he wasn’t getting frostbite. How could he be a writer if he didn’t have fingers? He supposed he could get that talk-to-text software, but they didn’t have software that could work a pair of chopsticks for him now did they? How would he eat the shitty Chinese food from that place across the street with his roommate if he lost his fingers?

 

He realized he was lost and rambling in his train of thought when he stumbled over something buried in the snow and hit the ground hard. He struggled wobbly to his feet only to fall again.

 

He was covered in a layer of sweat from walking so long and fighting against the elements, and it made him feel too hot in a strange way. Part of him wanted to take off the jacket, but he stopped himself. He just needed to rest for a minute. He was so tired, and the snow had pretty much stopped anyway. He would just sit here for a little while and then he would start walking again. He couldn’t exactly remember where he was walking to, but it didn’t matter. Just a few minutes and he would get back up.

 

 

 

His eyes opened to blinding brightness and a muffled voice in his ear yelling his name. He tried to tell the voice to leave him alone, but his mouth didn’t seem to want to work. He slid back down.

 

 

 

“Cas, goddamit! Stop fighting me!”

 

Castiel could faintly make out his own slurred voice chanting ‘let go’ at whoever kept pulling and shifting and twisting him around but it didn’t seem to stop them. His shirt was unceremoniously ripped over his head and suddenly there was warmth, like a furnace pressed against him. Too hot. He tried to struggle away, telling the voice to just let him _go_ , but more warmth was wrapped around him and he could do nothing but flop like a fish out of water.

 

“Let me go.” He pleaded. He felt like he was being cooked.

 

“Never.” The voice told him as he closed his eyes once more.

 

 

 

The next time he woke up, he was shivering so bad he thought he was going to crack his teeth when they chattered together. He opened his eyes to more darkness and blinked, hoping to clear his vision, but nothing happened. He started to panic and something tightened around him. Not fear or anxiety, but a pair of arms.

 

He flailed away from whoever was holding him and onto his ass on the… floor? He felt around with his hands and realized he was sitting in the foot well of a vehicle that was decidedly not his own.

 

A voice startled him so much he jumped. “Cas, not this again. C’mon, we need to get you warmed up.”

 

“…Dean?”

 

His roommate grunted and grabbed at him, pulling him back onto the seat and into the circle of his arms again. “Yeah, Cas. It’s me. You're pretty hypothermic and we’re snowed in so you gotta stop pulling away and just let me get you warm ok?” Dean’s voice was thick with sleep and although Castiel had no idea what was going on, he didn’t fight him. He was cold, and Dean was so very warm, and they were obviously both very tired.

 

Dean pulled Cas’s head onto his chest and rubbed a hand up and down his spine, humming a low tune that vibrated through Castiel’s whole body.

 

“I got you, Cas. I got you.”

 

He fell asleep.

 

 

 

 

“Cas. Hey, Cas. Wake up.”

 

“No.”

 

“Dude, I gotta piss. Get up.”

 

He was about to ask if Dean needed him to hold his hand and walk him to the bathroom when he realized that he was lying on top of the other man.

 

“Oh. Sorry.” He rolled off and landed, once again, on the floor of Dean’s impala. At least this time he could see, though flat white covered every window. He was dizzy and his head hurt like a bitch.

 

What the hell happened?

 

Dean threw his jacket on over his bare chest—why was Dean shirtless?—and shoved open one of the doors. The snow made it difficult, and he had to brace himself against the seat and heave it open with his feet. A gust of cold air had Castiel realizing he was only in his boxers and he let out an indignant squawk, scrambling to shield himself from the wind. Dean chuckled and apologized before stepping out into the snow and closing the door.

 

That’s right, snow.

 

Memories of last night started to trickle in slowly. Hydroplaning off the road and into the ditch. Walking, walking, walking. He was so, unbelievably cold, and then the blinding light that must’ve been Dean’s headlights. Dean had somehow found him and probably saved his life.

 

Dean opened the door and flicked snow off his hands before climbing back inside. Cas had struggled into his clothes and now sat with his back against the other door, facing Dean.

 

Dean looked just about as lost for words as Cas was, but he broke the silence first anyway.

 

“Hi.”

 

“Hello Dean.”

 

The awkward silence returned and Cas just stared at Dean for a few moments, which was pretty much his favorite pastime anyway. Dean stared back like he always did, and the awkwardness seemed to fade.

 

“I guess I should… thank you?” Cas began, fiddling with the hem of his shirt.

 

“It’s no problem, man. You’d have done the same for me.”

 

“Forgive me, but why were you even out here?” The question had been bugging Cas since he woke up.

 

“When I got home your idiot brother told me where you went and I figured I’d try to catch up with you before you got too far.”

 

Castiel’s face hardened. “To try and talk me out of going?”

 

“Nah, Cas. I was just gonna go with you. I figured you might need some support since Gabriel decided to be a douche.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Why did Gabriel act like a brat instead of going with you? I dunno.”

 

“No, I mean why would you go through all that trouble to follow me in a blizzard to my deadbeat dad’s funeral?”

 

“You really have to ask that?” The look on Dean’s face changed from open and unguarded to closed and wary in the blink of an eye.

 

Dean had made it very clear how he felt about Cas from day one. He had told Dean that he wasn’t ready for a relationship, and rather than moving on like Castiel had hoped (and dreaded), Dean had decided to just wait for Cas to be ready.

 

He never pushed or tried to guilt Cas into being more than friends, but it had put a strange kind of pressure on him all the same. Dean was extraordinarily kind, and thoughtful, and sweet and caring and funny and everything Cas could ever ask for in a boyfriend, but something always held him back from giving in.

 

It’s not even that he was afraid of their relationship changing all that much. He and Dean were practically joined at the hip anyway. Dean would pack him lunches in the mornings when Cas would have lectures all day and Cas never forgot to drop by the auto shop with coffee when he knew Dean had a late night studying. All the little things that couples did for each other, they already did. Everything but the physical stuff.

 

All the same, Cas could see the way Dean looked at him when he thought he couldn’t see. Or each time he stretched out a hand as if to brush Castiel’s hair back from his forehead or fix the collar of his shirt. How his eyes would drop to Cas’s lips when they spoke sometimes and how he would lick his own subconsciously when he did. It never failed to send a thrill through him. He wanted Dean, _dear god_ did he want Dean, but he never gave in.

 

No, what Castiel was afraid of was that once he let his guard down, Dean would leave. Cas’s mother died when he was just a baby, his older brothers—other than Gabriel—left as soon as they could, and finally their father. Everyone leaves, and why would Dean be any different? Part of him knew how stupid it sounded, but that didn’t make the fear any less real for him.

 

He told himself that if Dean waited for him six months, a year, two years that he could be trusted. That Dean wouldn’t be like the rest. That Dean would’ve somehow proved himself by that time, but each time the limit passed, Castiel would chicken out and extend it. He was being a coward, and he knew it.

 

“No I… I guess I don’t.” He drew his knees to his chest and lay his head down on them. Thinking about this never failed to make Castiel ache inside.

 

He felt a hand on his shoulder and jumped. The hand was gone in a flash. “Are you ok?” Genuine concern filled Dean’s voice, and Cas didn’t even have to look up to know that Dean’s brow was furrowed with worry.

 

Cas took a quick mental check of his body and found it surprisingly ok for having almost turned into a pile of frozen meat. “I’m a little sore, but I think that’s from shivering so hard. Otherwise I’m fine.”

 

“That’s good. I wish I coulda brought you to the hospital, but the snow is so thick Baby just stopped moving. We’re stuck here until the plows come.” Dean spoke like it was no big deal. Like he got stranded in the snow with a boy that kept him at arms length for no good reason all the time.

 

“You did more than enough. I probably would’ve died out there if you hadn’t followed me.”

 

“Yeah, you probably woulda. And after you’re 100% better I’m gonna be really, really mad at you. Fair warning.”

 

Cas looked up then, and true to his words, Dean looked angry.

 

Castiel was dumbfounded. “What did you expect me to do, wait in the car?”

 

“Uh, yeah Cas. That’s what you're fucking supposed to do! Unless you smell gas or it’s already on fire, you stay in your car and you stay warm and you wait for help. You don’t go on a little nighttime hike in a goddamn blizzard!” Dean realized that he was raising his voice and took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I was just really worried. _God_ Cas, you were so fucking _blue_.”

 

Dean covered his eyes with his hand and rubbed, and for a horrifying second Castiel thought he was going to cry, but he pulled himself together and glared.

 

“Never do that again.”

 

Castiel had no problems agreeing to that. “Alright.”

 

“Seriously man. You aren’t allowed to die on me. I haven’t even gotten to kiss you yet.” Dean looked kind of startled, as if he hadn’t meant to say that last bit aloud, and the awkward silence returned with a vengeance. They never talked about it, the elephant in the room. Not since Dean had promised to wait until Cas was ready, and Cas was just as startled as Dean.

 

But why though? Castiel knew his reticence had so much to do with his father. Part of the reason he wanted the closure of the funeral so badly was that he thought with all of that behind him, he wouldn’t be so damn afraid to let Dean in. But if he knew that moving past his father’s abandonment would help, why couldn’t he do it right here? Right now? Why did he need to see a gravestone to decide that he could have this?

 

He was leaning forward before he fully knew what he was doing, and Dean flinched back so hard he smacked his skull on the window, panic in his eyes.

 

“W-what are you doing?” Dean asked shakily.

 

“I’m trying to kiss you, idiot. So stop moving.” The fear was already draining away, being replaced with the overwhelming feeling of _want_ that he always associated with the green-eyed man in front of him.  

 

“Are you sure? I mean, don’t think I said that to pressure you or anything. You really don’t owe me—”

 

Cas reached out a hand to cover Dean’s mouth. “I know, Dean. I owe this to myself. I’m sorry it took me so long to get here, but don’t think it was because I feel indebted to you. Now are you going to sit still?”

 

Dean held his gaze for a moment, searching, and nodded. Cas lifted his hand and replaced it with his mouth. They stay like that for a couple of seconds, neither moving, barely breathing. The air was heavy and all Castiel could feel was the warmth radiating from the body in front of him. Dean didn’t say a word, didn't pull away, and in his mind Cas exhaled a breath of relief.

 

Castiel pulled back just long enough to look at Dean, and when he saw the sheer love and adoration in those green eyes he dove back in. Where their first kiss was close-mouthed and chaste, their second and third and fourth were frantic. They had waited so damn long for this it wasn’t even funny. Tongues met in an exploratory slide, noses bumped, teeth clashed. Dean kissed him like it was a fight and Castiel gave as good as he got.

 

They were startled away from each other by the sound of heavy machinery in the distance. The plow had finally arrived. Dean pecked him on the lips once, twice, three times before fighting his way outside to talk to the plowmen.

 

They had the impala extracted within half an hour, though Castiel would have to wait a couple days for a tow truck to be able to make it out to get his car.

 

Dean revved the engine and rolled up to the road. “You think we’ll make it in time for the service?” He asked, face alight with happiness despite the subject of conversation.

 

“I don’t care. I just want to go home.” He pulled Dean’s right hand from the wheel and linked their fingers together. He was done dwelling in the past.

 

It was time to start his future.

**Author's Note:**

> Oops, this one is a day late (well about 50 minutes to be exact) so expect two today!
> 
> The title comes from the song 'Kindle My Heart' on the Little Princess soundtrack.


End file.
